Hope: The 30th Games
by Light Blue Light
Summary: Another fun year of the Hunger Games from the perspective of a likable District 8 male. This is my first story I've ever written, so feel free to give some constructive criticism if you want. Enjoy!


Every once in a while I like to go down to the lake for dawn. I would go with Rell but he's probably asleep. Either way, the sun is pretty and everything seems perfect for some time.

I spring out of bed and throw on a pair of old athletic pants and a light jacket, as well as my beat up shoes. It'll do.

I love when my parents are asleep and the house is this quiet. No verbal battles about money or anything. Just the placid hope that this new day may be different. I cling to moments like these.

I love my parents, I really do. I just find it hard to open up to them. It's hard to talk to a couple of stressed and poor adults about your many ambitions.

I leave the house as bouncy and hopeful as ever. The morning air is crisp and the sun is just beginning to edge over the horizon. At least I assume so, I can't really see past the textile factories yet. The only people out this early are Sade, the neighborhood old dude that's always wandering around for some reason, and Lyla, a girl who shares my age and sells cheap cloth on the side of the street. I smile awkwardly at Sade who gives me a polite nod back, and decide to say hello to Lyla. She's pretty, but I've never really been into her like that.

"Hey there, Lyla. Top of the morning." I say it as happy-go-lucky as I can because people around here love it when they see a happy teenager, for some reason. I'm not always truly joyous, but it helps me be well-liked and it gives the mopey District 8 a bit more pazazz.

"Dustin, good morning" Lyla says casually. She's always been so damn cool about everything. I've known her for forever because our school was never very large.

"Heading to the lake" I say. "Have a good day selling, my friend." I say with a kind smile. She smiles back, keeping her cool. I like being nice to people, but I try to be humble about it. I walk down the urban street towards the water.

This place may be dismal at times, but home to me is seeing smiling faces despite our wages. Not even the reaping later can burn my ambition.

I could never tell if my ambition to bring about change is artificial or not. I've always been this way, really, but I can't even tell if I do it for me or for others anymore.

A few turns through the grey concrete playground and I find the small lawn of grass that leads up to the small lake, probably less than a mile in diameter. It would be nicer if Lynn were next to me right now, but I enjoy the calm reflecting water anyway. The grass coupled with the water soothe me, a soft embrace that matches Lynn's. Too bad her parents are always so strict.

I lay there, pondering Panem without the Hunger Games. It would be a beautiful thing, and I'm hoping to do something about it. I'm not sure how yet, but I really want to.

What if I get reaped? Would I win? I think I can. I'm 16 and, although I'm an average five foot eight, I have a good amount of muscle and I can run for a long time. I'm bouncy, too. Maybe I'm just overthinking things.

Oh well, whatever happens happens.

Suddenly, I open my eyes to realize that I fell asleep on accident and I laugh to myself quietly. Laughing things off is a good thing to do.

I check my battered watch, seeing that there's only an hour until the Reaping. My parents are probably concerned now as usual when I've been wandering without telling them. I get up and head for home.

The streets are bustling now. I give happy hellos to a few different people from school and a bunch of different street sellers that I see regularly. Most of them smile when they see me, or at least give me a notion back. It makes me comfortable knowing that people like me.

Entering the house, I say hi to dad in the kitchen. He's making lunch for us because everyone is off from work on Reaping day.

"Wandering again, Dustin?" he says with a curious eye.

"Of course Papa. When am I not?" The answer is generic, I've always wanted to open up to the guy more. He works hard at the mill for me. His face contorts with a hint of confliction obviously in his head. I walk into the living room to see my lovely mama. Although I rarely open up to her, she's always felt like home.

"MA! How did you sleep?"

"Great, honey, good to see you home" I give her a smooch on the cheek.

Dad walks in with some bland soup for us and we eat together on our dingey couch. I'm as happy as can be, I think. Maybe it's just fake happiness because I'm trying to forget about the Reaping. My dad says something that I'll never forget.

"Dusty" my dad says. I'm kind of startled, he hasn't called me that in years. "Yes?" i blurt out.

"If you get Reaped today, I want you to know that I _know_ you can win."

I'm so taken aback. My parents have never brought up the possibility of me being reaped. I wonder why he decided to bring it up now after all these years.

"Thanks, Dad"

We finish up and leave for the square. It's only a fifteen minute walk, but it goes quick because I happened to meet up with Rell right away while walking. He's my best friend.

He bounces towards me with his short brown hair and tall physique, yelling "DUUUUSTIN!". We're a loud pair. He politely says hi to my parents and I do the same to his.

"Boy, you wanna throw a ball around later?" He says excitedly.

"Heck yes Relly!" I say, joyous. He's the only one I know who is always as excited as me. He's never been so friendly to other people, but it's okay. I appreciate his presence whenever we're together.

We reach the Square, where most people have already gathered, looking grim. I put on a casual smile. Rell and I head to the 16-year-old section. I wanted to say hello to Lynn, but I can't see her and the Reaping is starting in a couple minutes.

I smile at Mom, who's standing there with a brave expression on her face. She always gets so worked up about this.

Kladius, DIstrict 8's escort, taps on the mic three times, signalling for the attention of everyone. He's literally peachy this year. He wears peach-colored tights and a round peach-colored hat and a peach-colored suit. He's crazy.

"Ladies and gentlemen" He says in his unusually quiet but upbeat voice. "Welcome to the Reaping for the Thirtieth annual Hunger Games!" He abruptly points to the projectors where the anthem plays and they talk about treason or whatever. I always zone out pretty quickly. The video ends and everyone is holding their breath.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor! Gentlemens first! Shall we?"

He reaches into the boy's glass bowl of slips, and I feel despair for a millisecond, which turns into complete and utter nervousness.

"Dustin Arlow!"

My heart starts jumping, I'm wide-eyed for a second, but then my mind flashes to several thoughts for a second. Fighting, being strong for all my friends and family to see, being a happy-go-lucky tribute that becomes a fierce competitor once the games hit. It's almost too perfect. I'm agile enough to be a threat but small enough to not be targeted.

All these thoughts flash through my mind in a second and I put my signature grin back on my face. With a head held high and a confident stride, I bound toward the stage. _Just don't think about it, Dustin. Don't think, just act._

As I pounce up the steps, I see District 8's two mentors, Seniah and Trill, looking at me with wide eyes and baffled expressions on their fold-out chairs on the side of the stage. _I promise to be a fighter. I'll do it for 8._ I feel queasy but up for the challenge. I bet I sound insane right now, but my outlook is keeping me together for the cameras.

I stand tall and presentable. I need to do this well.

Peachy Kladius looks at me with the biggest smile I've ever seen as he shakes my hand.

"Now, onto the ladies!" Kladius states as he pulls out a slip.

"Blanche Moore!"

I look out, seeing a girl emerge from the 14-year-old section, with long black hair start to head toward the stage. She's pretty, with a little bit of a bulkier build and pale skin. She's tearing up, but she tries to act strong for the cameras.

Once she steps on stage, I realize that I'm only a little bit taller than her, and that she has a reasonably athletic build. I feel for her, and suddenly my hope diminishes just a little bit. _Stop thinking about death, Dustin, it won't help you!_

I push the feeling hopelessness down. It all goes by in a cloudy blur as the two of us are pushed into the Justice Building. Looks like I won't be seeing Rell for a game of ball later.


End file.
